Orion
by The Assassin's Pen
Summary: Carol had loved constellations as a girl, but her favorite had always been Orion, the hunter and archer who rose in winter, when he was needed most. One shot, can be Caryl or just platonic. T just because Walkers.


It wasn't cold enough to risk a fire. The night sky was clear, a moonless expanse of darkness that stretched horizon to horizon, free of light pollution and dusted with stars. Carol wrapped her arms tighter around her chest and curled her entire body desperately under the thin blanket that was only getting thinner. She was shivering uncontrollably and had been for an hour, making sleep impossible. The ground was hard and the night was frigid though not yet dangerously so. Not yet. It was only late November—still relatively mild.

She twisted her hands into the blanket, blinking aching eyes to the sky and wishing she could sleep. She sniffed, angry at herself for the tears she could feel building. Everyone was cold. It was the end of the world. They'd found enough food that day and she was spending another day safe from the monsters they shared the world with—what right did she have to cry? She grit her teeth and stared defiantly up at the cold stars, refusing to let the tears fall. It didn't matter how exhausted she was, she wasn't going to cry about it.

Crunching footsteps signaled the change in watch and the sound only made Carol's battle against her irrational emotions harder. Change of watch meant she'd been fighting to sleep for at least three hours, and would get hardly any before it would be time to get up and move on. It wasn't like they could stay and sleep in. They were ridiculously exposed but they'd had to stop and make camp. Everyone was too tired to keep on, so they'd made do.

She turned harshly over, angrily fighting with her blanket as she felt it pull away from her back. In a fit she flung it away and just lay shivering against the ground, hugging herself. It hadn't been helping anyway. The footsteps stopped behind her and she heard the crunch of a boot turning in the dirt. She hunched her shoulders and squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she'd just lain quiet, heart pounding in the expectation of harsh retaliation. Whoever was coming back from watch had seen her outburst, quiet as it had been, and had eyes on her.

She listened to the person walk around her and stoop to pick up the blanket. When she felt it being settled back to her shoulders she startled and her eyes shot open. Daryl was crouched over her, his hands up in a placating gesture, his eyes fixed on her. Her fingers curled around the edge of the blanket and she dropped her gaze, suddenly ashamed.

"Ya okay?" he asked quietly, his voice only loud enough for her.

She shuddered and tucked her chin to her chest. Daryl moved again, setting his crossbow carefully down, and moments later he was at her back, touching her shoulder gently so as not to startle her. She jumped anyway, turning over to see him settling down next to her, propped up on his side. "Can't afford a fire, too exposed," was all he said, moving slowly.

His calloused fingers gently skimmed over her arm as he wrapped her up against him, tucking his chest to her back and pulling the blanket over them both. She almost cried with relief—even through his jacket he was so warm. Her shivering gradually subsided and her exhaustion settled with a pleasant weight, pulling her heavy against him as his warmth flooded her. She lay back into his shoulder, the cradle of muscle the best pillow she could ever remember having. She gazed up at the sky through drooping lashes, and a familiar constellation prodded a fading memory. She used to love stars. She'd known every constellation when she was a young girl, but after her husband had beat her for her frivolous interests she'd forgotten most.

 _Orion_ , she thought sleepily. _The archer._

They shared a sleeping space every night for the rest of the winter. At first she hadn't been sure it would ever happen again and she tried not to feel disappointed at the thought. Tried to be grateful that Daryl, so obviously uncomfortable with closeness, had selflessly shared his body heat with her that night. All she really felt was disappointment that she didn't have him again the next night when he took the later watch and stayed up until dawn.

The night after was different. He didn't have watch at all—Rick and Glenn took the entire night to let the hunter rest—and after dinner he went straight to her, a soft question in his eyes as she tried to bed down in a pile of leaves and rags. She gave him the smallest of smiles and waited for him to situate himself before leaning back and sighing softly, melting into him. She could feel his heart beating gently against her shoulder blade, and she rest her cheek against his arm, watching the light of Orion's easternmost star.

It became their ritual. If he wasn't hunting or on watch, he would settle down next to her, gentle and hesitant, and she would fold back into him and let the warm lull of him calm her into sleep. One night, wrapped up in his arms and outside again for the first time in nearly a week, Carol laced their fingers together in a moment of boldness and snuggled her head back into his shoulder, silently pleased that he didn't pull his hand away. She felt his breathing change, as though he was uncertain of what she was trying to do, but he didn't actually pull away.

"Do you watch the stars?" she asked softly.

"Not really. Don't get lost all that much."

She turned in his arms enough that she could look at him and still gaze past him into the sky if she wished. She crinkled her brow. "You only use them for direction?"

He shrugged. "Yeah."

"When you were a kid you never lay on your back in the grass on a warm night and tried to find constellations?"

He shook his head, pressing his lips together the way he did when he was uncertain or embarrassed. "Never saw a point," he murmured, eyes on the ground.

"I loved constellations when I was a little girl. My mother bought me a book and I used to sneak out onto my roof at night with a blanket and stare at the sky, figuring all of them out. I had them memorized, once."

He glanced at her, then turned his eyes to the sky, as though trying to see what she saw.

"Orion was my favorite," she continued. She pointed, outlining the constellation for him. "See his shoulders there, his belt, his sword, and his bow? He was so brave and the gods loved him so much that when he died they put his image in the stars." She smiled at him, catching his eye as he looked back at her. "He was a hunter, an archer," she said, nudging his chest playfully with her shoulder.

He ducked his head, and she could feel him twitch a little as he reflexively tried to move away and then thought better of it. Instead, he buried his head in the back of her neck. "Stop," he mumbled.

It was no longer so cold at night and the deer were starting to move again. The group was starving. They were out of options.

"I'll be back before nightfall," Daryl assured them before slipping into the woods on a dangerous twilight hunt.

Carol focused on helping the others make and secure camp, but once things were done for the night and the watch was set, she couldn't help or fight the worry that built with every moment that passed without Daryl's return. She watched the last rays fade into the dark, felt the temperature begin to drop, and watched as the night fell dark enough for the stars to come out. Still Daryl wasn't back.

She tried to get some sleep, tried to prop herself more comfortably against the uneven ground and relax, but her heart would not quit pounding. She opened her eyes and tucked the blanket closer to her chest, missing the quiet cadence of his breath, the assuring rhythm of his heartbeat at her back. She blinked away worried tears and fought the urge to go to Rick. A hunting party looking for their best hunter in the middle of a moonless night was far too risky. Most likely Daryl was fine, and they would only get people lost looking for him. She sniffed, dashing away the tears with an angry fist and turned onto her back, looking up at the stars. She had to adjust her gaze—this late in the winter months Orion was sinking towards the horizon, only some of the stars visible above the forested line.

She frowned, puzzled when her eyes didn't fall to it immediately. Irrational panic began to build as she searched, and with a gasp that hurt with its sharpness she realized it was hidden behind the ghostly grey of distant clouds. Dread poured into her gut like ice water and she scrambled to her feet, sprinting to the perimeter where Rick was keeping watch.

"Rick, we have to go after Daryl, something happened to him," she whispered harshly as Rick turned sharply around, his brow furrowed.

"What do you mean?" he asked, standing and glancing back at his post before turning back to her. "Did you hear something?"

She swallowed back a gulp and shook her head, trying to think of what she could say that could make him understand. "He should have been back," she said, her hands twisting on each other. "He doesn't get lost and he knows better than to stay out all night-I can just feel it. Something happened to him."

Rick's expression softened to one of pity and he reached out a hand to Carol's shoulder. "Carol, I know you and Daryl have gotten…close over these past few months. Are you sure you're not just tired and worried and letting your imagination run away? You're right, Daryl doesn't get lost. He also doesn't give up and he knows how desperate our food situation is. He's strong, he's smart. He probably found a trail and chose to follow it."

Carol shook her head and stepped out of Rick's grasp, her thin hands clenching white on each other. "Rick, you have to trust me. Something happened, and if you won't go with me to find him then I'll go by myself. He's in danger, and if we don't go help him he—" her throat seized and she couldn't finish. "He won't be coming back," she managed to finish.

Rick studied her for a moment, turning his gaze back into the brush and sighing heavily. "I can't leave the camp unguarded," he said. "You have your gun?"

She nodded, her lips pressed together and bloodless.

"All right. I'll go look for him if you'll keep watch. We have too few of us and this area is too exposed, I can't afford for anyone else to go. Will you do that, Carol?" he asked, holding her gaze. "Will you trust me to go find him?"

She nodded again, quickly taking up Rick's post as he gathered his things. She didn't want to stay, but she knew he was right. She stared into the dark, praying they wouldn't be too late.

It was nearly dawn when movement snapped her to rigid attention. She clenched on her gun, heart pounding so hard it was making her sick. Every muscle strained as she fought the urge to run towards the sound. She hoped desperately it was the two men returning, but she feared the worst. Her finger tightened on the trigger and she sat in breathless readiness.

Rick stumbled a little as he emerged, hauling Daryl beside him. Carol shot to her feet, rushing to them and hurrying to help Rick support Daryl, who was limping badly. Blood caked his lower leg and Carol looked across him to Rick, who met her eyes and shook his head.

"He wasn't bit," he assured her, and Carol almost felt dizzy with relief as they turned the barely conscious hunter around so he could sit on a stone inside the camp.

"What happened?" she asked as she worked to steady him and began pulling up his pant-leg, assessing hastily bandaged damage.

"He was in a tree, surrounded by walkers and out of arrows. Bleeding a lot. I wasn't able to get everything out of him but apparently he cut his leg pretty bad tracking a deer he'd shot. The deer was too big for him to move quickly by himself with it, so he hauled it into a tree so we could go get it later and then had to join it when he lost too much blood and the smell attracted a herd. I was able to take down enough of them that he could get down and help me finish them off, but by that point he'd lost too much blood and the adrenaline wore off. I had to carry him part of the way," Rick finished, worry furrowing his brow. "I'm just glad you said something," he said softly. "Without your gut Daryl would have bled out in that tree."

Carol could feel herself pale, but she didn't falter, working at cleaning out the wound with the water and rag Maggie brought. The commotion had woken most of the camp and the others were filtering into the conversation, clicking into helping wherever they could.

"Take Glenn and get that deer," Carol said, tearing Daryl's pant leg to the knee to access the wound better and finish cleaning it. "We're going to need the meat."

That night Daryl was the one shivering, even though it was no longer colder than 50 at night. His blood loss wouldn't be fatal, as long as he could get enough food and water in the next few days to replenish it, but he was suffering weakness and a lower body temperature anyway. Carol had taken great pains to make sure his wound was clean and wrapped tight, and that he ate and drank as much as they could afford.

When the sun began to go down she curled up with him, unable to hold him the way he held her, but offering every ounce of heat she could produce. He wrapped around her anyway, his muscles shivering weakly as she hugged his neck, resting their foreheads together. She stroked the hair at the back of his neck and just breathed with him until he was soothed enough to sleep. She studied him quietly, watching the way his brow furrowed and his breath hitched against a nightmare before she pressed a kiss to his forehead and drew him away from it.

Gradually, his shivering subsided and she could feel his warmth begin to return. She pressed her cheek to his and he pulled her a little closer. Orion was barely visible above the trees.


End file.
